After the waffle, the coffee tasted pretty damned delicious.
Anna was frowning now. "But wait, don't you want to sit down?"
"I'll sit when I'm done," I said, grabbing the second waffle and choking it down as fast as I could. When I finished, I downed the rest of the coffee and tried like hell to look like I didn't feel like tossing it all back up again.
And now, Anna was looking almost disgruntled. "So…What'd you think of the waffles?"
"Delicious," I lied. "What'd you think of yours?"
"Mine?" she said. "They weren't too bad. But of course, I had bacon in mine."
I stared at her. "What?"
"Bacon," she repeated. "Crumbled."
"You mean bacon and the fish stuff?"
She shook her head. "Nah. Just the bacon."
Again…What the fuck?
I jabbed a finger toward the now-empty plate. "So you didn't eat that shit?"
"It wasn't shit," she said with a smile. "You just called it delicious."
"I was lying." My eyes narrowed. "And so were you."
She straightened. "I was not."
"You told me you ate some."
"I did," she said. "They just weren't the same, that's all." She gave a pretty little shrug. "Oh well, don't worry about the dishes. I'll get them."
I stared in sullen silence as she made her way to the sink and sure, enough, began rinsing off the dishes.
I glowered in her direction. "And what the hell is that noise?"
She turned to ask, "What noise?"
"You're whistling."
"Am I?" She smiled. "What, don’t you like it?"
By now, I didn't know what I liked or didn't like. The truth was, she sounded adorable, whistling at the sink.
But the truth also was that she'd somehow managed to one-up me yet again.
I had to respect that, even if she was Anna Fucking Burke.
I turned and stalked from the room. "I need a hike."
Chapter 54
Anna
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I was giving Flynn a no-nonsense look. "Well, obviously you must know her."
I'd just returned from lunch with Becka, where I'd spotted that same brunette sitting at a nearby table. This time, I'd paid particular attention to the exact moment when she'd arrived. It had been within five minutes of myself.
Flynn replied, "Yeah, so?" He'd just walked in from yet another hike. Funny, he was up to like three hikes a day, sometimes four.
Weird.
Shoving aside the distraction, I said, "So…? Who is she?"
He flashed me a sudden grin. "Why? You jealous?"
I gave a snort of derision. It was a joke, obviously. Nearly three weeks had passed since that incident with the cameraman in the restroom.
After that day, we'd never discussed it – or the waffles that I'd made in retribution. Somehow, we'd reached an unspoken truce, which meant that we were back to pretending.
That was fine by me.
Still, there was one teeny problem. Every once in a while, things started to feel scarily real, here at the house and in public. We'd been going out several times a week, not doing anything special, just having a dinner at some restaurant or walking downtown hand-in-hand.
People always stared, and Flynn usually pretended not to notice. But occasionally, someone would get too close or too obnoxious, with me in particular, at which point, Flynn would pull out the protective boyfriend routine.
Usually, he'd just hustle me away to safety. But other times, if the person had been particularly rude, Flynn would make the offender leave with their tail between their legs.
Sometimes, all it took was a look – a very scary look, judging from the reactions of all those poor saps on the receiving end.
I had to give Flynn credit. He was one heck of an actor.
In reply to his crack about me being jealous, I said, "Curiosity and jealousy aren't the same thing."
When his only reply was a loose shrug, I persisted, "Seriously, who is she?"
"All right, you really wanna know? She's a freelancer."
I tried to think. "Like, she's going to do a story?"
"No. Not that kind of freelancer."
"Well?" I prompted yet again. "What kind is she then?"
"Let's call her…" He paused as if thinking. "Surveillance."
I was frowning now. "What kind of surveillance?"
"The subtle kind."
I wasn't buying it, because for one thing, she couldn't be that subtle if I kept on noticing her. "So what is she? Some sort of baby sitter or something?"
"Why? Are you a baby?"
Sometimes when we were out, he called me "baby." And whenever he did, my knees wobbled just a little. He really did have a great voice.
But my knees weren't wobbling now. "No," I said. "And I don't want to be treated like one either." I felt my gaze narrow. "Wait a minute. At the steak house, she was sitting with that camera guy."
"Yeah, so?"
"So she obviously knew him. And so did you." Flynn had, after all, called the guy by name. Ronnie, was it?
"Yeah, so?"
"So you obviously know more than you're saying." When Flynn opened his mouth, I held up a hand. "And don't say it."
"Say what?"
I did my best Flynn impression. "Yeah, so?"
To this, he made no reply at all. Instead, he shrugged and walked past me, heading toward the kitchen.
I called out after him. "Wait a minute! We weren't done talking." When he kept on going, I hollered, "One more step, and I'm making waffles."
That made him pause. He turned back to say, "You wouldn’t."
"Oh, I would, and you know it."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Maybe next time, I'll be making the waffles."
"Hah! You can't cook."
"Says you."
I eyed him with renewed suspicion. "Well, I've never seen you cook. But that's beside the point." As he stood still, I marched up to him and said, "Seriously, how do you know her?"
Chapter 55
Flynn
As Anna stared up at me, I gave her question some thought.
I didn't want to answer.
Michelle was a surveillance expert all right, but she hadn't been hired by me. She'd been hired by Felicity.
I'd known Michelle for a few years now because she'd done some work for Felicity in the past. So when I'd spotted her here, in Sugar Falls a few months back, I'd known that it couldn't be a coincidence.
I'd soon caught up with her, and we'd had a little talk. As a result, her mission had changed considerably.
Her official job? Spying on me and reporting back to Felicity.
Her unofficial job? Reporting any trouble to me and giving Felicity just enough information to keep her from sending someone else.
Yeah, I was bribing her, which meant that Michelle was working for both of us – Felicity up front and me on the sly.
I hadn't given the arrangement much thought until the day Michelle had given me a heads-up about Ronnie. Even by paparazzi standards, Ronnie was a total shit-bag, willing to do just about anything to get some fun footage of someone at their worst.
Knowing Felicity, she'd hired him, too. She did have a history of that sort of thing.
As far as Michelle, I'd come to appreciate the idea of someone watching Anna's back when I wasn't with her. But Anna didn't need to know any of this, so all I said was, "Hey, it's part of the job."
"Whose job? Hers?"
"No. Yours."
At this, Anna didn't look happy. "So let me get this straight," she said. "Being followed is part of my job?"
"She's not 'following' you. She's just going where you are."
Anna made a sound of protest. "But that's the same thing."
"In public," I clarified.
This much was true. According to Michelle, her newest mission was to let Felicity know when Anna was flaming out, so Felicity could fly in like a vulture to pick at the carcass of what used
to be our relationship.
"And," I continued, "it's not all the time."
Anna rolled her eyes. "Well that changes everything."
Obviously, Anna had never been tailed non-stop. "Trust me," I said. "It could be worse." I gave her a serious look. "And now you need to do me a favor."
"What kind of favor?"
"Pretend to not notice her."
"Why?" Anna said. "I mean if she's working for you—"
"Just do it, all right?" Maybe I was being a dick, but it was for Anna's own good, whether she realized it or not.
"All right," she said. "Then I want a favor in return."
Shit.
Anna had that look in her eye. I knew that look. She was going to ask the question that I didn't want to answer.
I was no mind-reader. But over the past couple of weeks, Anna had been asking some probing questions about why I'd hired her in the first place.
I'd been reluctant to answer because the truth was, I'd come to realize that my answers – if I ever game them – would suck balls.
Sure enough, she said, "Just tell me, why would you need a fake girlfriend in the first place?"
"I already told you, to keep people off my back."
"But who?" she persisted.
"No one you need to worry about." I gave her a hard look. "And maybe I've got questions, too."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
My jaw clenched. "Like, what the hell were you thinking?"
She blinked. "What?"
I hadn't meant to say it.
But now that it was out there, I saw no reason to pull it back. I made a point to look around. "You're staying at a house with a guy you hardly know."
She frowned in obvious confusion. "You mean you?"
"No." I hesitated. "I mean, yeah. Me, but a few months ago."
On the surface, this made no sense. But I'd spent far too many hikes wondering what would've happened to Anna if she'd taken this deal with someone else, someone a lot worse than me.
We were living out in the middle of nowhere for Christ's sake.
When her only reply was a confused stare, I said, "Don’t you think that's dangerous?"
She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Are you forgetting? This was your idea."
"Yeah, but you didn't have to take me up on it."
She gave a hard scoff. "Well, that's rich."
"Meaning?"
"I mean, that's easy for you to say."
I crossed my arms. "Is it?"
"Definitely," she said. "And besides, it's not like you were a total stranger."
I tensed. Anna staying with a stranger? I didn't like the sounds of that at all. But it wasn't the thing setting my teeth on edge now. I muttered, "No shit."
At the beginning of our arrangement, I'd been worse than a stranger. I'd fucking hated her.
If I didn't have my own ideas about what was right and wrong, I could've done a lot worse than hassle her. Even that thing in the back seat – as bad as it was, it could've been worse
She was still staring. "Just what are you getting at, anyway?"
"I'm just saying, we weren't exactly friends."
She looked at me for another long moment before saying in a voice that was eerily quiet. "I know."
It wasn't the reaction I wanted. Hell, I didn't even know the reaction I wanted. I just knew that I didn't want Anna making that mistake again.
At the mere thought of it, the muscles of my neck felt too hard and too tight. "I'm just saying, you should've stayed away."
She stiffened. "Are you done?"
"No."
"Too bad," she said. "Because I am." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me staring after her.
Fuck.
Chapter 56
Anna
Over dinner, I told Becka, "He is such a jerk sometimes."
She frowned. "Obviously."
I paused in mid-bite. "What makes you say that?"
"I mean you just had lunch with me a few hours ago. And now, you're having dinner with me, too."
Funny, I was also having dinner with Michelle, aka Little Miss Surveillance. Okay, maybe she wasn't sharing our table, but I could still see her, sitting alone a few tables away, pretending to be engrossed in her phone.
Across from me, Becka was saying, "So I'm guessing you needed to get away, huh?"
Did I ever. After my little spat with Flynn, I'd spent a couple of hours alone in my room before deciding that I wasn't going to spend the whole day sulking.
"I had to," I explained. "I couldn’t find the waffle mix."
She shook her head. "Sorry, I don't get it."
No. She wouldn’t. I hadn't mentioned the whole waffle thing, mostly because it was just a teeny bit embarrassing. But I hadn't been kidding about the mix.
I'd found none in the pantry, in spite of the fact we'd had plenty the last time I'd looked. And, as if that weren't suspicious enough, the waffle maker had mysteriously disappeared sometime while I'd been upstairs.
As if I couldn’t buy a new one.
"Speaking of waffles," Becka said, "did you see this?" She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled across the screen. When she found what she was looking for, she held up her phone, screen out, revealing a gossip story that I hadn't yet seen.
When I saw the headline, I didn't know whether to laugh or groan. Flynn Archer Butters Up Waffle Waitress.
Good Lord.
Accompanying the story was photo of me and Flynn. We were holding hands across the table of our favorite lunch place, a little deli with just a few tables. Funny to think, we actually had a favorite deli, almost like a real couple.
As I gazed at the photo, I had to admit, we actually looked like a real couple, too – the happy kind, in the first blush of true love.
At this, I almost rolled my eyes. True love? Oh, please.
Becka said, "What's the matter? Don't you think it's funny?"
I tried to laugh. "Well, I've gotta give them points for creativity."
But the truth was, the joke was getting old. Over the past few weeks, I'd seen plenty of waffle-related headlines. My least favorite? Flynn Archer Waffles Between Felicity and Waffle Waitress.
I mean, seriously, two "waffles" in one headline?
Wasn't that a bit much?
And besides, Flynn wasn't waffling at all. He didn't want either one of us – me or Felicity. But that was a good thing, right? I mean, I didn't want him either.
At something in my expression, Becka said, "Hey, it could be worse. You could've been working at the Big Sausage."
On this, she had a point. This was the name of the local meat market, a shop known for having the best kielbasa in the county. I laughed in spite of myself. "Yeah, I could only imagine the headlines for that."
"And while we're on the topic of giant dicks," Becka said, "did mom tell you? Gordon's up for an early release."
Yes. She had. But I hadn't mentioned it to Becka, because I hadn't wanted to her to worry if she hadn't yet heard.
Already I was worried enough for the both of us. Still, I tried to look on the bright side. Maybe if he got out, Becka and I would finally move on with our lives.
Whatever my mom did, well, that was up to her, wasn't it?
We spent the rest of lunch talking about more generic things, like Becka's class schedule and the possibility that I might take a few classes myself when my stint with Flynn was over.
This might've sounded wonderful, if only I wasn't dreading that eventuality more than I cared to admit. During our time together, I'd come to actually like him, maybe even more than like him.
Or maybe I only liked the person he was pretending to be.
In a million years, I'd never figure it out. And the sad reality was, I didn't have a million years. By now, I had only a couple of months before our arrangement ended.
By the time Becka and I finished dinner, I was more confused than when I'd begun. But I did feel better, right up until the moment I was ambushed yet again.
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Chapter 57
Anna
In the nearly empty parking lot, I stared at the stylish dark-haired woman whose ass was leaning against the door of my car – or more accurately Flynn's car, considering that he was the one who actually owned it.
I'd just returned from walking Becka up to our apartment and saying a quick hello to my mom.
After this, I was in no mood for further grief.
I'd already received plenty thanks to my mom's snippiness after learning that Becka had gotten lunch and dinner, while my mom had gotten nothing.
I could see her point, but in my own defense, she hadn't been home either time, so it's not like I could've invited her anyway.
Still, the encounter hadn't helped my mood, and neither had the sight of the stranger.
I didn't know who she was, but I was pretty sure I knew what she was and why she was here.
Without bothering to smile, I said, "Can I help you?"
Smiling big enough for both of us, she replied, "Actually, I'm here to help you."
I'd heard this pitch before. Over the last few weeks, I'd been approached by several so-called reporters. All of them had been fast-talking coastal types looking to get the inside dirt on my relationship with Flynn.
I didn't give her the chance. "I’m not interested in selling a story if that's what you're suggesting."
Her smile faded. "It doesn't have to be a story—"
"Or pictures."
"Okaaaay—"
"And before you ask, I don't have any videos either." I held up a hand. "And I'm not willing to get any."
Her lips pursed. "Sounds like you've got your bases covered."
Did I ever. The funny thing was, I'd been offered nearly as much money for secret dirt on Flynn as he was paying me for pretending to be his girlfriend. If I were any less ethnical, I'd be cleaning up right about now.
But a deal was a deal, and I didn't plan on breaking it.
With a little smirk, this latest reporter said, "Are you sure you don't want to get it while you can?"
"Get what?"
"Payment."
I was already being paid – by Flynn, not that I'd be sharing that little nugget of information. I replied, "I'm not interested."
She gave me a long, calculating look. "It's not going to last, you know."
Flipping His Script: A Loathing to Love Romance Page 22